The Many Deaths of Raoul de Chagny
by Clown Accomplice
Summary: I have noticed that one of the most fun things to do with Raoul is to kill him. I have also noticed that I like fun. Following this train of thought, I have decided to write a series of one shots in which I viciously kill Raoul repeatedly. Enjoy. T just in case of later chapters.


"I'll wait for you by the coaches, Little Lotte. Two minutes." Raoul grinned eagerly as he closed the door quietly behind him, almost prancing down the stairs in his excitement. It had been so long since he had seen Christine, he drew in a deep breath savoring the idea of spending time with her again. He couldn't believe that his little Lotte had just come traipsing back into his life with out so much as a "how do you do?".

Still grinning from ear to ear, Raoul fetched his heavier coat from where he had checked it before the performance and slid it on as his mind remained fixed on Christine. It was incredible how much she had grown since he had last seen her. Back then she had been an awkward, lanky girl who could barely take a step without tripping over her own feet, now she was a queen, eloquent and refined. An ideal vicomtesse, to be sure. He blushed slightly at the path his mind had taken, and chose to preoccupy himself instead with where he would take her to eat. He wanted some place classy, where he could show off his wealth without making her feel uncomfortable. _Ah! Rinoldo's will be perfect! Just the right atmosphere…_ his mind remained tied up as he made his way down the slippery front steps of the Opera Populaire, a slight drizzle slicking down his hair.

Raoul shook his head slightly, in far too good a mood to truly be bothered by the rain but the many cats that seemed to occupy the streets in that part of Paris did not seem all too pleased, occasionally darting through his legs in their attempts to find shelter. Despite the weather, Raoul was whistling lightly to himself before his tune suddenly died. _I may not mind the rain, but what about Christine?! Ah, idiot!_ He berated himself sharply as he turned on heel and trotted back towards the opera house.

Upon entering the main hall, Raoul saw a familiar, wild haired man and walked briskly towards him, "Monsieur Andre, I don't suppose you have a spare umbrella I could borrow, do you?"

"Of course, Vicomte, let me just grab one for you," nodding his consent, Raoul stood in the main hall as he watched the other man disappear behind a bend in a nearby hall way. After a few moments, Andre appeared once again holding an old umbrella, "Unfortunately it would appear that Firmin has taken our good umbrella for his walk home, this is the best I can give you." Some slight rust was visible on the trunk, but otherwise it appeared to be in good shape.

"Nonsense, Andre, this one will do perfectly." He took the umbrella quickly and began to make his way from the room before remembering his manners, "Oh, and thank you. I'll see you tomorrow." With that he swept from the hall before Andre had the chance to respond. Once he was outside again, Raoul looked at the sky, glad that he had had the foresight to go back. The rain was much heavier now and he was forced to stop for a moment to try and open the umbrella. The rust seemed to be more extensive than he had though, making it nearly impossible to open.

Raoul sighed as he jiggled the handle of the umbrella before wedging the tip between his feet and pulling with all the force he could muster. Forcing the little lever down and pushing hard with his other hand, the bar finally gave as the umbrella frond shot out. He took a step backward in order to regain his balance just as a soaking wet cat made a dash from a nearby carriage, entangling itself in his legs.

Raoul flew backwards, hopping from foot to foot as gravity pulled him down towards the slick cobble stones. The curb caught him by surprise as he took a final tumble, rolling passed the parked carriages and into the street. His clothes muddy and soiled, Raoul shook himself, looking incredulously at his once immaculate outfit. He shifted his hair out of his eyes, cursing his foul luck when a cry drew his attention, "Monseiur! Monseiur, WATCH OUT!"

He turned just in time to see the stamping hooves coming down on him, his body crushed by the force of a horse in panic. The Vicomte de Chagney shivered once, twice, before lying still in the middle of the road, a small crowd beginning to form around him.


End file.
